


I Did The Best I Could

by Beki1507



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Character Death, Consensual Underage Sex, Domestic Violence, Family Angst, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mentioned Iggy Milkovich, Mentioned Mandy Milkovich, POV Mickey Milkovich, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24914554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beki1507/pseuds/Beki1507
Summary: Mickey's mom isn't perfect but she loves her kids.  They're the only good thing to come out of her marriage.So she will do what she needs to protect them and save herself.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	I Did The Best I Could

**Author's Note:**

> An AU story involving Mama Milkovich. Underage tag applies as both Ian and Mickey are underage in this. Rape/non-con is there as a precaution but it is not descriptive (also it doesn't involve Ian or Mickey). Also, I know it's pretty much confirmed that her name was Laura, but I just went down the route of not using any name.

Mickey had given up on the ‘perfect life’ when he was 7 years old. That was the first time that he had seen the true wrath of his father. He didn’t know exactly what was happening, but he could feel the rage emanating from his parent’s bedroom, a dark presence that infiltrated their entire home. How he had heard flesh against flesh, and the muted cries of his mother, who was desperately trying not to alert the rest of the house; her son and daughter, and the kids that had come along with her husband, not to mention her husband’s alcoholic brother who was camping out in the living room. Mickey peered through the gap in the door and watched as his dad’s large frame held his mom down against the bed. The light from outside the window caught her eye, highlighting the lack of emotion inside her, the sad resignation to her fate. He wanted to turn away, to walk back to his bedroom and scurry under his own blanket but he was fixed in position.

The next morning, his mom cooked them breakfast and acted like nothing had happened. No one else seemed to notice the thick layer of make-up that poorly masked the bruise around her eye. She blamed the split lip on slipping in the bathroom. She wore long sleeves despite it being 85+ outside. He wasn’t the smartest kid in school but he knew that it wasn’t normal behaviour. It wouldn’t be the last time he would witness a similar scene.

When Mickey was 11, he realised that what he should have felt for girls had got fucked up in the water and he couldn’t stop the boners he would pop when he thought of boys. He knew it was wrong. His dad and his uncles and his older brothers would go on frequently about putting the ‘faggots’ in their place and giving them the beating they deserved. So he squashed those thoughts down inside him and jumped on the bandwagon that his father proudly rode. He lost his virginity to a girl his Dad brought round when he was 12 years old. He couldn’t really put up a fight as Terry leered at his son. ‘Rite of passage’, he hollered as he took another swig from the bottle of whiskey, ‘the sign of a true Milkovich man’. She was older, much older. Spoke little English. When he came, embarrassingly quickly, she seemed unbothered. Merely slipped off the condom, tied it and tossed it in the bin. She had made all the right noises, the ones that he had heard from the porn vids, but she might as well have been dead inside. He would later realise, she probably was.

At 13 years old, Mickey’s life changed dramatically. They arrested his mom for possession of cocaine with intent to supply. Everyone and their grandma knew that they weren’t her drugs, that she was just the fall guy for a deal gone wrong, but she was arrested. And she was charged. And with the shitty public defender that they got given, his mom was handed a 3 year sentence to be served at Decatur Correctional Center. A “lenient sentence” for the amount she had, but it was her first proper offense so they “went easy” on her. Mickey could feel the bile in his stomach rise to his throat as his mom was led away.

As soon as she was locked up, Mandy moved in with her aunt, and Terry decided to fuck off to earn the big bucks with the cartel so happily handed over Mickey, Iggy and Joey to family services. It was the worse 11 months and 4 days that he had endured so far. No family wanted to take in a Milkovich, their reputation proceeded them, so he was holed up in a group home. He didn’t get to see his mom at all while he was there. Mickey knew she wasn’t a saint. There had always been drugs in the house, and he had known that his mom had enjoyed a good binge every now and them. That year though, without her, brought out the worst in him. If they could lock up his mom, who actually gave a damn about her kids and simply wanted what was best for them, then he was definitely fucked for life. He was stuck in a group home because he was a Milkovich. He was suppressing all his feelings because he was a Milkovich. Short of leaving town and changing his identity, there was no real future for him so he may as well accept his fate. 

His 14th birthday came and went with no fanfare. However, the following day he was summoned to the entrance of the home and greeted by his mom. Early release for good behaviour and overcrowding. She looked older, tired but happy to see her boy. The year inside had aged her considerably, but he had never been so happy to see someone in his life. She hugged him tightly before embracing the two older boys. They weren’t hers by birth, but she had a fondness for them. Their mom had abandoned them, although there were rumours that she had been murdered either by Terry or one of his associates. She couldn’t just let them fend for themselves. Mandy came back to the home on Trumbull a few days later, and their little family was together once more.

The joy didn’t last too long. Terry skulked back shortly afterwards and Mickey realised that the abuse his mom suffered was the reason she would now spend longer periods of time out of the house. She would work, three or four jobs some weeks, but it would keep Terry happy. Mickey had seen the steady decline in her personality – and not just from her stint in prison. When he was younger, she would read to them, take them to the park, cook them breakfast when they woke. She had slowly retreated into herself, cautiously getting into bed with her husband after a long day trying to earn an honest living. The clothing changed too. Now it was high necklines to cover the bruises around her throat, long sleeves to cover the marks on her arms that had been left from the cigarette burns. She had become adept at hiding the shiners. Mickey would mention it every now and then, in those quiet moments when it was just the two of them. But she would wave him off and pretend it was nothing serious. Little accidents, clumsy moments, injuries from her job.

Mickey had pretty much dropped out of school by this point. He would never admit to his mom that he was helping his dad with the family business, but it meant that he stayed on his good side and that was the best thing he had ever learnt. Over the years, keeping out of Terry’s way when he was pissed off had become a skill that Mickey had become an expert in. Mandy had managed to hone it to a similar fashion. Iggy fucked up some times, once ending up with a broken arm, but “what can you do, Iggy’s a clumsy fucker, aren’t ya, son?”

And then it happened. Terry was locked up. Somewhere in the broken judicial system, they had managed to throw some dirt at him and make it stick. It was the drugs again. Mickey knew it always would be. 5 years. It was a chance to feel free.

***

He’d met Ian Gallagher just before Terry was locked up. In a few weeks, it would be 18 months since that first epic night. Not that Mickey was counting. They had a casual thing going and it worked for them both. He guessed he meant something to Ian, because he’d been fucking his boss before Mickey came along but that got thrown to the side within a hot minute. By the time Terry was in the clink, he and Ian were forming a wonderful fuck buddy friendship that worked for both of them, with minimal feelings involved. Some feelings involved. Actually, quite a few feelings from Mickey’s side but he didn’t want to mess up a good thing. And getting fucked by Ian was a very good thing.

The house was calmer with Terry gone. They had managed to patch up some of the broken dry wall. His mom had even invested in some new throws and pillows to brighten up the place. Her mood was more buoyant too. He hated to use the word but it was nice.

Mickey was in the house throwing together a turkey sandwich before taking off for his latest round of collections. He had planned the quickest route to make sure that he was done as soon as possible. Mickey hadn’t seen Ian for a couple of days, and despite needing to get his dick wet, he was beginning to realise he missed the gangly fucker. They had set up a space in one of the abandoned buildings. Stashed some beers and weed up there, an old sofa the only furniture to speak of. With his family’s homophobic tendencies and Gallagher’s ever present hoard of family members, their space allowed them to keep the arrangement on the down low. He was shook out of his reverie by the sound of his mom entering the room,

“Pass us the milk, son.” She said, as she tightened the cardigan around her small frame. She had always been a small person. Barely 5ft 2 and around 115lbs on a good day. However, she’d had this fire inside her when they were kids. Mickey knew it was still there, it flickered occasionally, but he didn’t know how to pull it back into the forefront. She made herself a cup of coffee, stirring in two sugars and a dash of milk. His mom leant back on the counter and stared at her son. After a moment, he glanced at her, his face etched with concern and a little suspicion.

“What?” He grunted, as he sliced through the bread and split his sandwich into two triangles.

“How are you, Mikhailo?” In an instant, he knew this was going to be one of those talks with his mom. The full birth name didn’t come out all that often. Hell, being in the same room as her with no one else in the house didn’t happen often. “You seem happier.”

“Just living my life, Mom. Nothing to report.” He’d shoved the sandwich into a plastic food bag before unceremoniously dropping it into his rucksack. By the time he retrieved it, it would be squashed into the thickness of a tortilla but still edible.

“Do they make you happy?” Mickey was caught off guard by the choice of pronoun, and he couldn’t hide it from his face as he glanced at his mom. “I’m your mother. I have known you all your life. I have loved you all your life.”

“Dad?” She shook her head solemnly. They both knew that he could never find out. There wouldn’t be a scenario possible where Terry finding out would be a good thing.

“Promise me you will work on getting out of here. You and your sister.”

“And you?” He asked, as he closed the space between him and his mother. She smiled a weak smile. Resignation on her face like she knew what she had signed up for when she had said “I do”. This was her lot. This was it for her. She slipped her arms around her son and drew him in tightly. He towered over her now and hated that he hadn’t been able to protect her. But things would be different now. He was convinced of this. Mickey knew that he would get her out of this somehow.

***

There was something freeing knowing that someone other than the person you were fucking knew your secret. He looked down at Ian and watched as he skilfully drew his cock into his mouth, circling his tongue around the tip before sinking down his length. Mickey let his head fall back against the tatty upholstery, feeling every sensation Ian’s mouth could bring him. His hand grasped at Ian’s hair. He’d buzzed it off a few months back, but it was now slowly getting some length to it. Enough to hold on to and provide direction, though Ian needed very little.

“Ian, stop, stop.” Mickey uttered as he felt himself getting closer and closer. His voice was thick with lust. Ian peered up from his position on the floor, kneeling between Mickey’s legs. That fucking face was intoxicating. He beckoned him closer and kissed him deeply. This has been a relatively new development in their…arrangement. Even though Mickey could currently taste himself on Ian’s tongue, he still lamented the fact that he had spent over a year not knowing what this felt like.

“I wanna make you cum.” Ian moaned against him, his hand sliding down to grip Mickey’s dick, slowly stroking it.

“I wanna…fuck…I wanna ride you.” Mickey panted out, realising that Ian had stopped moving his hand at Mickey’s words. He stared at him, trying to figure out how he had fucked up. They had never fucked like that before. Was it a bad thing that he wanted this?

“Fuck yeah.” Ian briefly straddled him, before rolling them so Mickey was on top. They both undressed quicker than they had done before, Ian managing to pull everything off with barely a second of not touching Mickey. He prepped him quickly but thoroughly, knowing that the earlier round would significantly help. Mickey caught Ian’s eye and realised Ian could see his nerves. This was unchartered territory for him and he didn’t want to mess it up.

“We don’t need to…” Ian began to say before Mickey metaphorically grabbed the bull by the horns. He wasn’t about to pussy out on something he wanted just because he was nervous. He pushed Ian back against the sofa and straddled him. He teased his hole just for show before grasping Ian’s hard dick. Lowering himself down gently, he could feel every inch of Ian’s dick against him. And it felt fucking amazing. The new position was a revelation.

“Fucking…shit Mick.” They stilled for a moment as both got used to the sensation. The overwhelming feeling of Mickey being full of Ian. Ian glancing up at his fuck buddy, who was so much more than a fuck buddy, and watching every twitch of his muscles, every quiver on his face, the soft breath he exhaled when he realised he’d bottomed out followed by a near orgasmic groan. He looked down at Ian and smirked like he was possessed by the Devil. He slowly began moving, pulling up so the tip of Ian’s cock barely stayed inside before sinking down. Grinding against him. Leaning forward and pinning Ian’s arms against the arm of the sofa. If it was this good on a decrepit piece of furniture, it would be insane on an actual bed with space and comfort. He increased the tempo of his movements. He could feel Ian panting by his ear, muttering things he couldn’t distinguish - it could quite literally have been gibberish. He could feel the familiar sensation of getting close but didn’t want this to end. Ian slipped his hand between their bodies and started jerking him off. Before long, Mickey could feel Ian coming deep inside him. It hardly ever happened when they were fucking. Mickey always came first. The realisation that he had attained the Holy Grail pushed him over the edge and he came against Ian’s chest.

“Jesus Christ, Mickey. We have got to do that again.” Ian said as he regained the power of speech. They sat at opposite ends of the sofa and stared at each other. Mickey threw a shirt at him, allowing him to wipe his chest down. There was a moment of mutual appreciation of each other before Mickey leaned over and grabbed two beers. He handed one over to Ian.

“So, my mom knows about you. I mean, not you specifically but…yeah” For the second time that afternoon, Mickey had rendered Ian momentarily speechless. Mickey was trying to gauge whether what he had just said was a good thing once more.

“You’re in one piece though?”

“Yeah, I mean, she basically said some bullshit about knowing me all my life so, you know.”

“Got a similar reaction from Fi. So, you told her?” Ian asked, curious as to how Mickey broke the news.

“Nah, she asked me who was making me happy.” Ian couldn’t stifle the grin that spread across his face, “Don’t get cocky, you fucker.” Mickey spat back before laughing along with Ian.

***

Life continued to prosper for another few months. With the oppressive presence of Terry not lingering in the house, his mom started to show more of true herself again. She’d even formed a friendship with some of the women she worked with and they would regularly meet for drinks after work. Mandy was out with her latest boyfriend a lot, who Mickey suspected was Ian’s brother, Lip. Iggy had moved in with his girlfriend and Joey seemed to simply pass through every once in a blue moon. It was weirdly quiet in the Milkovich house and Mickey had never felt more content.

He grabbed his burner phone from off the kitchen counter and shot a text to Ian inviting him over. They were approaching the two year mark of their ‘thing’ and he realised that maybe this is what normal people referred to as a relationship. Not that he was about to make things official with Ian. He’d probably already figured as much anyway.

Ian was over in less than 15 minutes and was on Mickey within seconds of entering the house. He guided him back towards the couch, pushing him down before straddling him.

“How long we got?”

“Hour, maybe two.” Ian began mouthing against Mickey’s neck as he unzipped his shorts.

They had just finished their second round, having moved into Mickey’s bedroom. Mickey was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, allowing the post orgasm high to filter through his body. Ian was lying on his side, inhaling deeply from their shared cigarette. Both of them were completely naked and blissed out. He ran his hand down Mickey’s torso and back up. He’d learned to accept Ian’s mushier side, no longer fighting against the soft touches that would symbolise something more than just a fuck buddy arrangement.

“You hungry?” Mickey questioned, snatching the cigarette from Ian’s hand and taking a drag, “Could order a pizza?” Ian nodded emphatically and rolled over to grab his phone. After calling in the order - two deep dish pepperoni with extra cheese and mushrooms on one - Ian wandered into the living room to retrieve his boxers before heading the kitchen. Fucking certainly worked up a thirst. He was pouring the second glass when he felt Mickey move behind him. Reaching his hand back to touch him, Ian realised that he was still butt naked.

“Exhibitionist.” Ian said, quirking his brow as he handed over the water. Mickey pushed his arm back so that Ian would be able to put the glass back on the counter before proceeding to kiss him deeply. The force of it saw Ian being pressed against the wood. However, there were certainly no complaints forthcoming from him. Mickey slipped his hand into the front of Ian’s boxers and languidly stroked his dick.

“We eat and then we go again.”

“What the fuck is going on here?”

And in that instant, the air left the house, leaving a suffocating, unyielding void where Mickey realised he had dropped his guard too much.

His head whipped to the side and he was confronted by Terry Milkovich. His mind should have been awash with 5 million different questions and thoughts, but was stuck on one – they were about to die. Yanking his hand out of Ian’s boxers, he positioned himself in front of the taller man as his dad raged towards them both. Mickey readied for a fight, but didn’t get a chance as his dad knocked him sideways with a blistering left hook before grabbing at Ian’s neck and dragging him forward. Mickey stumbled to regain his composure, but his father’s hands were brutal and he felt the nausea surge through his body. He didn’t even realise his dad was armed until he saw the handle of the gun come down against Ian’s head. Ian dropped to the floor, clasping at his head to shield from the blows as a second, third rained down on him. Mickey charged towards them but was stopped as he found himself staring down the barrel of the gun. Terry’s hand was holding Ian against the floor – an obviously disorientated and bleeding Ian. Mickey’s heart hurt at the sight.

And then there was the sound of a gun firing. The deafening, overwhelming sound of a bullet leaving the barrel and hitting its target.

Mickey’s heart broke as he realised that he hadn’t been hit. That apart from the pain on his face where his dad’s fist had struck him, he was completely unharmed. His eyes closed against the reality for a moment, trying to summon up the courage to look. He dropped to his knees and waited for his dad to seal his fate. He heard a thud in front of him which caused his eyes to fly open.

Lying in front of him, with blood pouring from the wound in his upper back, was Terry Milkovich. The man who had held his family’s entire destiny tightly in his hands. He groaned on the floor as the pain coursed through his body. He was down but not out. Mickey glanced down at Ian, who was staring at the prone form of the man who moments earlier had been on the verge of killing him. Mickey looked up from Ian, realising he was safe for now, and locked on the figure in the doorway who was brandishing their own gun. The look on their face was determined and focussed. There was a fire behind their eyes that was overwhelming. They walked up to the three men, in their various positions on the floor before honing in on Terry.

Without a word, they aimed the gun at his back and fired three more times.

***

Mickey walked into the visitor’s area and signed his name. He was a regular now, visiting every two weeks like clockwork. Ian stood beside him, slipping off the gloves and shoving them into his pockets. Winter had come in particularly brutal this year and both were bundled up like they were in the Arctic. Hell, the Arctic was probably warmer.

“So do you think you’ll ever find out why?” Ian questioned. It was the one thing that his mother had never explained. Mickey could understand why she had snapped, but he didn’t know what the trigger was.

“You think I should just ask?” Ian shrugged his shoulders.

Even though Terry dying had put Mickey’s mom back in prison, and for a significant amount of time, there was a definite change in their lives. The spectre of his father and what he could do was completely gone. His mom had seemed almost happy to confess to killing him, never denying her actions. Mickey had begged her to hand the gun to him after he had come back to his senses. He didn’t want to see her go down for his murder but she resolutely refused. She even called the police on herself.

Mickey sat down in front of the screen and lifted the receiver. His mom smiled back at him.

“Hey son, how are you today?”

“Hey mom. I’m good. Ian says hi.” Her smile grew as the mention of her son’s boyfriend. She had grown fond of the redhead who made her son smile so much. She had hoped that meeting him for the first time wouldn’t have been under such murderous circumstances, but these things couldn’t be helped.

She had received the call about Terry’s release whilst at work. It came completely out of the blue but she knew the first place he would go would be the house. The house where her son was enjoying the freedom of no one being around. She had rushed back to discover her husband pistol whipping her son’s boyfriend, her son on the ground battered. Grabbing the gun from the cubby hole she had created in the corner of the living room, she fired it once into her husband’s back. The following three times were just her insurance policy that the bastard wouldn’t rise again.

“Mom, I need to know, why?” Mickey said during a brief lull in their normal conversation. She shuffled nervously in the chair as she glanced around the room. It was a question that she hadn’t purposefully been avoiding but just seemingly never came up.

“I always told myself that I could cope with the abuse. It was my fault for ignoring the red flags from the start and then when you and your sister came along, everything had gone wrong. The one thing I could do was protect you from him until we found a way out. A way out that wouldn’t have seen your dad come after us because he would have found us.” She inhaled deeply as she recalled the day of his death in her mind, “I walked into that house and saw my worst nightmare being realised. He could hurt me and that’s fine. But actually seeing him attack you, he left me no other choice. So I did what I should have done years ago. I regret nothing, Mickey. He had to die.” Mickey stared at her and felt an overwhelming sense of pride flow through him. It was wrong, to take such pleasure in the death of another, but he didn’t actually care. He pressed his hand against the glass that separated him from his mom and she did the same. In the end, he didn’t have to save her from Terry, she did it all on her own.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired in part by a TV programme I watched about women killers. A woman on there was quite open in the fact that she could cope with the abuse, but the moment her husband turned on her children, he had to go. She seemingly had no remorse and I admired that. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments and kudos, as both are always greatly appreciated. Also, do let me know if there are any tags that are missing or if the rating should be higher. Thank you!


End file.
